To The Death - SYOT
by LetMeLeadForever
Summary: *Open* Submit a character and see if they'll survive the hunger games!
1. Form

**Fill in the form below and submit the characters via PM. You can enter as many tributes as you want. You earn points for your tribute (Points can get you tribute food, water, weapons, first aid...) by commenting on the chapters.**

Form:

Name:

Gender:

Age:

District:

Looks:

Personality:

Bloodbath tribute?:

Career?:

Boyfriend/Girlfriend:

Would you like a love interest in the Games?:

An alliance?:

Interview angle:

Background:

District token:

Family/friends:

Favored weapon:

Her high heels made a noise against the platform, echoing through out the silent town square, as she stepped up on stage. The woman's blue lips - no one was sure if it was lipstick or if they were dyed that way - twisted into a cruel smile as she folded her hands behind her back. "The president," She began, stopping as her eyes swept across the crowd, taking in the faces, wondering which one's she was going to see covered in blood. "has announced that the games will be starting again."

The once silent town square filled up with mumbling and gasps, people's eyes growing wide as the information finally got through the them, finally registered. She had to hold back her laughter, glee running through her at getting to announce this. She walked off stage, heels barely heard over the uproar, and heard the man that was before her shushing the crowd, trying to calm them. But, really, there wasn't anyway to calm them. This was happening. No one could stop it.


	2. Characters

District One

Girl: Maylina Envy Secrente

Boy: Kazuo Helbig

District Two

Girl: Willow Jackmen

Boy: Aladdin Mores

District Three

Girl: Hurinty Lillia

Boy:

District Four

Girl: Rose Smith

Boy: Ire Shellers

District Five

Girl: Serena Horley

Boy:

District Six:

Girl:

Boy:

District Seven:

Girl: Layla Ganden

Boy:

District Eight:

Girl: Jenia Fredit

Boy:

District Nine:

Girl: Fern Gresham

Boy:

District Ten:

Girl: Maybelle Dremsa

Boy:

District Eleven:

Girl: Erin Waders

Boy:

District Twelve:

Girl:

Boy:

* * *

It really hadn't been a choice in deciding whether or not they were going to restart the Hunger Games because...well, first of all, they were fun to watch. Everyone loved them. Nearly everyone, anyway. But the majority - and by 'majority', it meant the people with the most power - loved the Hunger Games, the pure entertainment of watching the children being forced to kill each other. And there had been talk of another unprising.

While they were all more than certain that an uprising wouldn't happen, they couldn't always be too sure. They needed to make sure that everyone fell back in line, make sure that people realised that they had the power. Because they did, everyone in the Districts were just pawns for them to play with, manipulate into doing what they wanted. So, they'd decided that the Hunger Games must be put back into action.


	3. RulesPoints

Ways To Get Points:

1. Comment = 5 points.  
2. Indepth comment (saying what you liked/didn't like, comments on what you thought of the character/s and spotting any mistakes you saw.) = 10 points.  
3. Following me = 15 points.  
4. Favouriting the story = 20 points.  
5. Taking part in one of the survey's on my profile = 25 points + can potientally help your character survive.

Each person starts off with ten points.

Points can get you:  
Small medical kit = 15 points  
Big medical kit = 20 points  
Any weapons = 30 points  
Food = 25 points  
Water = 25 points  
Anything else: Ask me and I'll determind a price

Rules:

1. You can only sponser your own character once, you'll have to send things to other tributes afterwards.  
2. The survey's will, at first, rate the popularity of the characters and the two least popular characters will go head to head in a survey. The loser will die.


	4. District 4 Reaping

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. **

**A/N- There is now a poll on my profile where you can vote for your favourite. It will give you 25 points and, if you own these characters, might even keep them alive. **

* * *

Ire Shellers

My shoes scuff the sidewalk as I keep my head bowed, knowing that I am being pursued. The man behind me - older, taller and, if it wasn't for the scar that ran from my right temple to my lip (cutting it's path across my eye), he would look rougher - speeds up, his shoes hammering the ground with more force, and my hand shifts to tenderly run over the rock in my pocket. It's soothing. And right next to the knife I am going to utilize, when he's close enough.

When I decide it's time, I twist round and glide my knife across his neck, narrowly missing the older man's attack. It isn't as if I am typically chased by people that want to slaughter me but it happens enough for me to know how to deal with it - the perquisites of living on the street, I guess - so my face turns impassive as I stare down at the corpse, indistinctly recognising the person's eyes. I'm certain he is the same person that tried to kill me last week but, fortunately, someone else had finished him off. They evidently hadn't done that good of a job.

Knives aren't my favourite of weapons but they are less conspicuous than tridents. A knife can fit in my pocket, making it easier for me to attack anyone without them knowing until the last minute, while a trident might alert people to what is happening. I amble away - continuing my journey towards the centre of District 4, where the reaping will be held - from the lifeless body, slipping the knife into my other pocket so the blood won't spoil my stone.

I am apathetic towards the reapings, there is never any point in getting worked up over them. Most people are either excited to volunteer whereas others - usually the twelve year olds – are petrified of being reaped. Even when I was twelve, three years ago, I could never bring myself to be fearful. I've spent most of my life on the street - it isn't very usual in District 4 but it did happen to some - so I was prepared for all of this, my life is full of fighting and death, it's the norm.

I eventually reach the middle of town, eyes skimming round the potentials as I sign my name, and saunter towards my designated area. It's hard not to stand next to anyone with how filled up the place quickly becomes but I never stand and talk to anyone, even if I like to think of myself as sociable, focused on working out which of these people I've seen on the street. Like I said, it is a rarity so I could only pick out four people. None of them are particularly welcoming.

The escort strolls onto the stage, golden skin glowing in the sun, as the winners from the last two Hunger Games - I can't even remember their names, it's hard to watch the Games without a TV - following closely behind her.

"Ladies first," she proclaims, an obviously fake smile gracing her purple lips, as she reaches into the glass ball.

**Rose Smith**

I secure my light-coloured hair up in a red ribbon, loving how the red contrasts with the colour of my golden locks, before making my way downstairs. The scent of freshly toasted bread - probably homemade, considering my mother's occupation as a baker - and waffles hits me in waves as I cross the threshold into the kitchen, deeply inhaling the sweet scent before walking towards the table and sitting down on the only vacant seat.

My mother hums a lively tune as she flips a pancake, beaming over her shoulder as my father applauds from where he sits behind a newspaper. My two brothers, Apollo and John, quarrel over the last waffle before I sneak it away and eat it swiftly, not even bothering to hide my smirk. Even on a day like this, one where two children will be taken away to be viciously killed or become brutal killers, our happiness can't be dulled.

It doesn't take long before we are all out of the door, the pots in the sink for me to clean up when I get home, and on the way to the centre of town. In my family, I'm the only one old enough to be reaped at the grand age of seventeen, my two brothers much older than eighteen now and never participating in any of the Games.

Living in the good part of town does give us the opportunity to train but my brothers are more interested in baking. I, however, did take a few training courses, mostly in using knives. Tridents are the more traditional weapon but I find knives easier to handle.

Smoothly, I sign my name near the top of the piece of paper, being one of the few early people here, and make my way towards the female seventeen year olds section. In barely any time at all, my friend's are flocking around me, offering bright smiles as they play with their hair and tug at their clothes, obviously anxious. It makes me nervous as well, to see them like this, but I push that feeling down. Getting worked up over nothing can give people wrinkles and that's the last thing I need.

**Ire Shellers**

A stained gold hand dips into the bowl as the woman keeps her eyes trained on the crowd in front of her, pausing every so often for 'effect'. Personally, I think it just makes it seem like she's too stupid to even know how to do simple things correctly without reminding herself every so often. She slowly unfolds the piece of paper she has picked, her long nails making the task difficult.

"Isabelle Mertic." She calls out, voice loud and shrill, her accent making me wince. A trembling twelve year old makes her way towards the stage, eyes wide as she chews on her lip. It's much more rare for girls to volunteer than boys so I'm sure that Isabelle will be going into the arena, she probably won't make it past the bloodbath, until a short girl bursts out of the seventeen year old section, shouting 'I volunteer'.

**Rose Smith**

I don't know what came over me. One minute, I'm sure that I could go home to my loving family because I wasn't the one reaped when I saw the girl. She's a tiny thing with big blue eyes and knees that looked as if they are going to buckle under her practically non-existent weight. Isabelle can't go into the Games, she is far too small and fragile, and it looks likeno one else is going to volunteer. I have to...right?

I hold my head high as I make my way towards the stage, the little girl shooting me a thankful glance, and I announce my name to Eda, the District 4 escort. She is bored with me in seconds, moving towards the boy's glass ball and taking a name out. It all seems much less dramatic from up here, knowing that my thundering heart could finally rest; even if it was because I am going into the Games and not because I am scot-free.

"Damon Trendals!" Just like every year before, a stampede of boys come rushing towards the stage, mostly from the eighteen's section. The trip each up, elbow each other out of the way, and do just about everything to reach the stage. In the end, it's a boy named Ire Shellers that reaches the stage before anyone else, a proud smirk on his lips.

He holds his hand out and firmly shakes mine and I'm already planning just how I can kill him.

**Ire Shellers**

Volunteering is the perfect way to get off the streets. I could walk places without the fear of getting stabbed and left for dead because no one would mess with someone that has as much money as being a winner entitles. I will win, of course, because what other choice do I have? The idea of dying isn't all that appealing.

* * *

**Points So Far: **

**katnisspeetabread: 10**

**TheGrammarHawk: 40**

**SheHasSpirit456: 10**

**DustyStroodle228: 10**

**FoxySneak: 10**

**Thatonedolan: 10**

**jaffacakesyumm: 10**

**Tigergirl22: 30**

**(Please tell me if I missed you off!)**


End file.
